Danse de la Rose
by StitchSaysHi
Summary: When a young ballerina joins the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire's dancing troupe, her potential draws the attention of one thought dead. Can the man who believes himself a monster learn to love again? Rating may go up in the future.
1. L'Audition

**A/N: Yeahhh...so this is happening. I promise I will be updating Forgive and Forget and A Shot in The Dark within the next couple days. It's just that the last three days I've watched this movie about 9 or 10 times, and I'm listening to the soundtrack as I write this, and I just felt Erik needed a little love. So yeah!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own any of its characters.**

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The Opera Populaire was newly rebuilt, newly reopened, and newly auditioning actors, singers, and dancers. The queue rounding the theatre was a long one, splitting off into three different lines somewhere within the building. After the disaster of four years ago had left the once grand structure in ruin, many in Paris had believed it would be destroyed, removed from everywhere but memory. But then a mysterious benefactor had bought the decrepit building, with promise to return it to former glory. And return it they did. All of Paris spoke of the mystery that was the new owner, for no one had seen him, no one had spoken to him, and no one knew his name. Some had even begun to wonder if the great Opera Ghost had returned, but such ideas remained nothing but rumor.

Standing in the middle of the three lines leading back behind the stage of the opera house, surrounded by giggling and gossiping girls one girl stood, making minuscule gestures to stretch her limbs. She knew she would most likely only possibly find herself a place within the troupe of chorus girls, but to be granted such a place would be opportunity enough. She had heard of the Opera Populaire, and of the great tragedy that had occurred here, but she would not be swayed. After all, the Phantom was dead, burned in the fire, or so the story went. However, an obstacle far more frightening still stood within the building. Madame Giry. As much a source of inspiration as of intimidation, she had regained her previous position as concierge and dance instructor. If young Adrienne Louvier wished to find her place within these walls, she would first need to prove herself, as it appeared some girls ahead of her had failed to do. Time after time some would disappear, but more would come running past, tears falling down their cheeks, which truly did nothing for the girl's confidence.

Suddenly, her name was called, and with a lump in her throat she stepped forward. The theatre itself was vast, and like nothing she had ever seen before. The walls rose high, ornamented with golden sculptures and coming to meet in the middle of the ceiling with a vast new and sparkling chandelier, as the old one had been destroyed. She was only afforded but a moment to take it all in, as the strict voice of Madame Giry broke her from her thoughts. "What is your name?"

Immediately she straightened her posture, looking into the woman's grey blue eyes. "Adrienne Louvier, madame."

"How long have you been dancing, mademoiselle?" She was circling her now, though giving a radius of a few feet.

"All my life. I began to dance as early as I could walk." It was not a lie. From an early age she had been drawn to the world of dance, fumbling about as soon as she could stand, twirling about at the age of five, her father giving her first pair of dancing shoes at ten. Dance was as much a part of her as the air she breathed. She was only ever truly free when she danced.

"You are aware of the piece you will be performing?"

She knew it would be wise to keep her answers short and to the point. Babbling on would get her nowhere except out the door. "Yes."

The older woman nodded, and moved farther away, still circling, but slower this time around. "Maestro." One word, a signal to begin the music to which the girl would dance. And dance she did. A grand jeté here and an arabesque there, her movements were fluid as she propelled her way around the wooden stage, careful to keep relatively to the center.

As the tune came to a close, she fell to the ground, right leg extended arms falling towards her toes as she bent her head, eyes closed as she prayed to god to not let her join the number of weeping girls sitting outside.

"Stand." The woman's voice was curt, her tone neither encouraging or dismissing. Adrienne quickly did as commanded, and though she held her head up, her eyes remained directed down towards her feet, as though a simple glance upward could destroy any chance she may have had.

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A figure, hidden in shadow, seated in Box Five, overlooked all of the auditions. No one knew he was there. No one ever did, but as he watched, relatively unintrigued with those that came and went. They were good, but none of them truly grabbed his interest. They were good, but none of them thus far had been great. None had shone bright enough to fully entrap his attention.

Now, however, that began to change. This girl, this young woman who bounded across the stage, caused him to lean forward, still not leaving the safety of the shadows. He watched her every move, noting that every bend and every jump was calculated and concise, but not emotional. There was potential, that was certain, but it had not yet been unlocked. Her nerves were obvious, so much so that it was a surprise they did not interfere with her dancing. Her stance was all but rigid. Antoinette possessed a certain power over the girls that stepped upon that stage. Most would break under the pressure of her gaze, and thus would fumble about, but this girl seemed to take that and used it to her advantage. Curious, he continued to listen, wishing only to gauge the talents of what seemed would be one of the newest members of the ballet troupe.

"Can you sing?" Madame Giry then asked, and the girl seemed to swallow quietly, moving her head in a slight nod.

"Sing these notes, then." She motioned again to the maestro, who progressed through various levels of solfège. The young woman visibly stood straighter, and he listned as she sang, holding out each note as long as instructed, only faltering a handful of times.

As she sang, he took a moment to study her. Dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun, with only a few pieces hanging loose to frame her face. He could not tell the color of her eyes from where he sat, but he could easily see the way she worried at her bottom lip. Her form was generously curved, for a ballerina, though he gave her body only a glance.

Her vocals were admirable, but nowhere near the level of her dancing. She was certainly no Prima Donna, but she had the beginnings of what could one day be a Prima Ballerina. She would need work though, and much of it. Not only that, but the devotion would have to be there. And whether it was or not, only time would tell. Standing, the man moved from his seat and silently exited Box Five. He had seen enough.

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Movement somewhere in the corner of her eye drew her gaze up to one of the upper seating areas, but when hazel green eyes focused on Box Five, it stood empty.

"Congratulations, mademoiselle Louvier. Welcome to the Opera Populaire." Adrienne's head snapped back and her eyes fixed on Madame Giry, as if in questioning whether or not the words had actually left her lips or if she had, in her high hopes, simply imagined them. The woman's face held only the faintest of smiles. "You shall be made to live within the dormitories here, therefore bring with you only that which you require."

Her heart leapt, but she kept the joy within, though struggling to keep her composure. Showing herself to be prone to childish behavior would get her nowhere with Madame, a woman who seemed to be all business.

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Adrienne had been at the Opera Populaire for little more than a week, rehearsals had thus far proved taxing, but now, as the moon had risen into the sky, and all those residing within the opera house had fallen to sleep, the young woman took a single candle to hand as she crept from the ballerinas' dormitories where slept her fellow dancers to the stage, where she lit only enough candles to make sure she could see, before setting down her own and taking to center stage. Closing her eyes, she imagined an audience, the orchestra playing a slow tune that rose and fell. Humming to herself, she allowed her mind to lose its grip on the world around her, delving into the depths of a fantasy where she would dance and dance until she could do so no longer, until the full audience of the Opera Populaire rose from their seats to applaud her. She let her movements carry her from one end of the stage to the other, oblivious to any who may have been watching her.

Roughly an hour would pass before the girl returned to the dormitories, falling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, completely unaware of he who had sat witness to her late night performance.

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**A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated. As previously stated, updates on my other stories will be coming soon, so stay tuned!**


	2. La Première Rose

**A/N: Chapter dos! I started writing this almost as soon as I published the first chapter, and I finished it at four-something in the morning last night after fireworks. **

**Once again, I own nothing, save my OC, Adrienne Louvier.**

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"Again!" The loud voice of Madame Giry, coupled with the thud of her cane against the ground was enough to make anyone jump, but slowly, Adrienne was becoming accustomed to the sharpness of the woman. Her daughter Meg was well on the way to becoming a close friend of the girl's. Beyond that she was a spectacular dancer, and by her guidance, Adrienne felt she could learn how to better her own talents. They helped each other, in some ways. Over time she had developed a habit of sneaking out to the stage at night when all others lay asleep, dancing until her feet tired out, and dreaming of crowds applauding her every move, and on nights that proved themselves riskier than others, Meg was there to make sure she wasn't caught.

As was normal when you place a large number of young girls in the same room, gossip and stories ran rampant, one of the most popular being that of the great Phantom of the Opera. There were those that said he had survived the great fire, and still lived within the depths of the opera house, skulking about in the shadows. Adrienne paid such stories no mind, lest she fall to paranoia and suspicion as some of her fellow dancers had. She saw the way they glanced around when mention of the Opera Ghost arose in conversation. In her mind, it was better to place her focus on her dancing, rather than on silly superstition. After all, that was all it was. Right?

On a night when rehearsals ran late, a light sweat glistened on porcelain skin as Adrienne danced alongside her fellow ballerinas. Madame had made them repeat the last string of movements roughly five or six times, as they just hadn't seemed to perform it correctly by her standards. Sooner or later she gave them a respite, ordering them to move on to the next bit of the dance, though they would return to correct their mistakes later.

* * *

She seemed to dance with not just her arms and legs, but the whole of her body. She gave all she had during practice and yet still she somehow found time to sneak back to do more when all the others lay asleep. It intrigued him, though it more than likely should not have, but for whatever reason, he found himself watching her, both now during regular practices, and later, in the darkness of the night. To harbour interest in a member of the Opera Populaire's cast was not something he had ever wished to return to, not after the way it had almost destroyed him before. _Christine_, he thought. _His angel of music_. She had kept him tied to her, dragging him along with each lovely note that fell from her lips, each innocent look in those beautiful doe eyes. But then she had betrayed him, unmasking him to the world, subjecting his ears to their screams of horror and disgust, snatching away his one remaining wall of safety and then abandoning him to run away with her precious Vicomte. She had shattered his heart, if not his mind as well, and left him an empty vessel, alone in the darkness with not even his beloved music to comfort him. It was all gone. In the end, he had turned out to be nothing more than a monster desperate to believe himself a man.

But, where Christine's potential lay in her voice, this woman's was found within her dancing. Perhaps it could be different this time if...

No. No, such thoughts as those were dangerous. For history to repeat itself would make him not only a monster, but a fool as well. He could not afford any interest in any of these girls, lest he find himself falling to pieces, this time with no one there to pick them up again. Antoinette's trust and aid only extended so far, and he doubted the woman would tolerate him again, or help him to flee when he undoubtedly led himself, and his beloved Opera Populaire, into disaster once more. To develop any sort of deep feeling for this woman would lead him only to ruin.

But perhaps he could teach her...

Removing himself further into the comfort of the shadows, the masked man disappeared once more, this time to contemplate the possible gains and consequences of tutorship. After all, to leave such a vast amount of potential unattended would be a crime in itself would it not?

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Adrienne's breath was heavy; her limbs aching by the time Madame Giry ordered the dancers to bed. Many moaned in relief as they stretched the cramps from their legs whilst trudging through hallways and up the stairs to bed. As she moved to enter the dormitories with the other girls, a hand caught her arm, and she looked up to meet Madame Giry's gaze. With a simple nod of her head, she motioned for Adrienne to follow. Moving away from the rest of her troupe, the young woman racked her brain for anything she may have done wrong, ready to apologize for whatever it was the moment she found opportunity to speak.

As they walked along, the girl's nerves rose in abundance. Whatever the subject of their discussion, the woman obviously did not want any of the other girls to happen upon it. By now they had come to the woman's office, and as she held open the door, Adrienne made her way hastily inside. Madame Giry entered behind her, stepping over to a cabinet, where she removed a small glass and a bottle filled with an amber coloured liquid. Adrienne's brow rose as the woman set the glass before her, filling it somewhere around half way.

"You may need that."

She was offering her drink? Such behavior would be strange for most in this opera house, but for Madame? It meant something. She opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off as the woman turned from her yet again, this time returning with a single red rose in hand, accented with simple black ribbon. As she placed it in Adrienne's hands, the girl looked down at it curiously, the pads of her fingers smoothing over the fabric of the ribbon.

"He wishes to meet you."

Her eyes found her mentors in confusion. "He, Madame?"

"The Phantom."

Her brows furrowed. _The Phantom._ The one she'd heard about? The main focus of so many stories that she had always assumed to be more or less a work of fiction? As realization dawned on her that all she'd heard was true, her eyes widened.

"The Phantom of the Opera...he-he's _real_?" She looked down once more to the rose in her hand. Her thoughts were racing. He was real. And he wanted to meet her. Looking up to the woman before her for some sort of confirmation and finding it laced within the look in her eyes., Adrienne's gaze fell on the tumbler glass and she quickly reached for it, downing its contents without a second thought, then cringing as it burned its way down her throat. She had never been one for drinks. And then she asked one of three questions coursing through her mind.

"Why _me_?" Though she supposed that was truly the only question that mattered.

"He has seen something in you when you dance. A potential not yet unlocked and one that is beyond my reach." Beyond the reach of Madame Giry? The thought alone seemed a preposterous one. The shock for a moment clouded her reaction that such a mystery of a man thought of her so highly, or at all.

"He wishes you to meet him in the same place you spend most your nights." She knew? Looking to the woman, Adrienne moved to explain herself.

"Madame, I-" The woman simply held up her hand to halt her words.

"Very little goes unnoticed in this opera house mademoiselle Louvier." Her voice sounded almost understanding. After a moment, she motioned to the door. "Go. Before you are late. The stage will be lit when you arrive."

Quietly, the young woman stood to her feet, allowing them to carry her from the room as her mind swam through an endless river of questions and confusion. She had no idea what she could expect from this night, but it seemed she would soon find out.

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**Reviews? Anyone? Next chapter they meet!**


	3. La Réunion

**A/N: A thousand apologies for not updating sooner. Classes have resumed here and I haven't had much time to write. Or at least not as much as I would like. Also, to whoever left the note from "OG" in the reviews, I sincerely think that may be the best review I've ever gotten and it made me grin from ear to ear. Thank you for that. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

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Stepping out onto the empty stage, Adrienne found that Madame Giry's words rang true and the center lights had been lit, exactly the same as she would have done. Her eyes searched the darkness for any sign of him, the mysterious man, the Phantom of the Opera, but the light of the candles only stretched so far.

He had called for this meeting, so was it too much to expect him to have been there when she'd arrived? But no, as far as she knew, she stood alone in the theatre, looking much like a hopeful fool. Resigning herself to wait for a moment longer before abandoning the stage and removing herself to bed, she set about stretching her aching limbs, first her legs, then her shoulders, then moving to work out the kinks in her neck.

"Stand straight." A deep, baritone voice cut through the darkness like a knife, seeming to come from no one direction, but surrounding her on all sides. Adrienne jumped slightly and looked around, still failing in her search for the source of the command, which she duly obeyed.

"Mademoiselle Louvier...your dancing is admirable at best, but thus far you have done little but blend in with the other ballet rats with whom you surround yourself." Her mouth opened in protest. First he complimented her only to follow his words with an insult? Alongside that, he had not yet revealed himself, making it all but impossible to hold a real conversation. It was _profoundly_ difficult to truly speak to a man when he remained where you could not see him. But her curiosity had left two of her previous three questions burning in her mind, and she set herself to gain an answer for at least _one_ of them.

"You said to Madame Giry that you saw a potential in me. What, may I ask, lead you to such a belief?" She could only hope that he would answer her.

"Why do you come out here at night, when all others in your troupe lay sleeping?" He answered her question with one of his own, and after a split second of hesitation, she replied.

"Practicing at night removes the distraction of the other dancers."

Before she could elaborate, his low, velvet voice sounded throughout the room once more.

"You seek to better yourself at any given opportunity. It is your devotion to honing your skills that clears the path you would take towards success. It makes you pliant and open to learning."

In the back of her mind she wondered how long he has been watching her. The thought that his eyes had been on her every night since she began her secret training sent a shiver down her arms. Though, that he had also taken interest enough in her skills that he now wished to teach her was a complimentary thing, was it not? That he had, amongst the throng of girls in her dancing troupe, chosen _her _to play the part of his student?

Still, her eyes searched the seats of the seats of the theatre, but they found no reward.

"There is emotion in your movements when you come here at night, emotion that is, to the eye, absent during rehearsals. There you bound about as the other dancers do. There your movements are practiced, but not passionate, careful, but not poignant. Not as they _could_ be." His assessment brought to light thoughts she had not before known to think. What's more, his words were true. When surrounded by the other girls of her troupe, she followed along to the steps they'd been taught, taking them as routine. Only now did she see how her movements could have been seen as cold and mechanical. After night fell and she escaped to the stage, there was no music, or the tapping of Madame Giry's cane to keep her in pace. There was only her imagination, and the endless darkness of the theatre. There she could move about freely as her mind and her body wished.

The quiet of the room fell like a blanket over them. Though it did not last long, in Adrienne's mind it seemed much like an eternity. An eternity of deafening silence that pounded against her ears and threatened to drive her mad.

"What would you have of me?" Her third and final question.

A moment more of silence passed before his voice surrounded her, wrapping around her mind like a vice and sinking into her skin.

"_I would have you dance._"

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**I didn't know where to end this chapter, so I'll leave it there. I know, it's short, almost snippet-like, but I will attempt to make up for that in the next chapter. Until then, read, review, and I'll try to get chapter four out as quickly as my fingers can type it.**


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